


Open Windows (and Oversized Hats)

by melwil



Category: Spooks | MI-5
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-11
Updated: 2011-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-17 22:38:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melwil/pseuds/melwil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christine and Zoe work their way through the heat. Spoilers to 3.6</p>
            </blockquote>





	Open Windows (and Oversized Hats)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 2007

They sat on either side of a rickety wooden table and looked at each other. The sun was too hot over head, and every now and then Christine adjusted the oversized hat she’d bought two days earlier. Zoe picked up her almost empty glass and swirled the remnants of the ice cubes around and around.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

Christine leaned back in her chair and stared at the endlessly blue sky. “I never thought I’d miss the English rain.”

It wasn’t an answer, but it was enough for now.

 

They thought they understood the score. Christine was supposed to be with Tom, living in some run down little cottage, pretending their careers as spies never even existed. Zoe was supposed to be forging a new life, with a new name and new relationships.

They forgot to look behind the curtains.

By the time Christine had arrived, night had fallen. She stood outside, in the dark, looking at the single light pouring out the open window. She rubbed her arms, and wondered why she was cold when the air around her was so warm.

She was walking up the stairs when Zoe opened the front door. She wondered if Zoe had been watching her, if she had been waiting for her. She wondered if Zoe had known she was coming.

 

“I keep in touch with it.”

“How?”

“I have my contacts.” Zoe put the coffee on the table, and ran her hand over her hair. She looked older than Christine remembered.

“I left that world behind.” Christine poured sugar in the coffee.

“I know.” Zoe took her coffee as it was – bitter and milkless. “I thought you’d bring Tom with you, though.”

“Tom . . .” Christine looked at her spoon. “It’s . . . difficult.”

Zoe nodded. “I’m not surprised.”

 

They moved easily through the darkness, Zoe’s hand pulling gently at Christine’s hip. Zoe fell backwards onto the bed first, with Christine falling on top of her. Their mouths met quickly, hungrily, with Christine pushing Zoe’s hair away form her eyes.

They wrapped their limbs around each other again and again, until they weren’t sure what belonged to whom. They whispered indistinguishable words, allowing them to float through the open window, out into the muggy air. They fell from the bed together, wrapping the cool cotton sheet around them.

They told stories, tall tales, about what they had been doing, where they had gone. They knew they were both lying, but they allowed the lies to sit there, in front of them. They understood.

 

They walked through the markets together, holding hands and swinging their arms. They meet with Zoe’s contact, receiving news which has to be four or five months old. Christine can think of better ways to get information, but Zoe seems happy to do it this way, so she says nothing.

They order cool drinks and drink from each other’s glasses. They watch the scrawny children running through the streets, and the old men arguing about cards. They play footsies under the table.

Christine wants to make promises. She wants to tell Zoe that she’ll stay forever, that they’ll end their days like this. She wants to tell Zoe that she loves her.

But she knows that their time together is coming to an end. That one day she’ll wake early, before the sun has time to bake the earth. She’ll take her bag and her new hat and she’ll move out, move on.

She never intended to stay.


End file.
